EchoDrift & Lunatik
Ever noticed how an abandoned building feels like a silent diary, whispering stories of people who left behind more than bricks?
Yeah, those cracked walls are like pages in a book that nobody wants to read, but the dust still tells you who walked through.
Exactly, dust is the ink that keeps the secrets alive, even when the pages are torn and the author has vanished.
I’d say the dust is the last breath of whoever lived there, quiet but stubbornly holding the story.
Like a stubborn ghost that refuses to fade, the dust clings to the walls, breathing whispers into the quiet air.